


Head Over Heels

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bottom!Erik, Dom!Charles, First Meetings, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sub!Erik, Valentine's Day, top!Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Erik and Charles hit it off at a club one night, but are interrupted before they can exchange names or numbers. Now, Charles is on a quest to find his mystery man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had plans to publish a short story as part of a Valentine's Day collection, where all the characters lived in a place called Port Valentine, but due to time constraints, the project was scrapped. However, I took what I'd planned to do and continued it as a non-powered Cherik fic. It is somewhat based on [Let's Play](http://archiveofourown.org/series/840000), but I think different enough to stand on its own. There are ten chapters, and I'll be posting two a day until Valentine's Day. <3

As he was filling the cash register drawer, the bell on the door rang, and Erik looked up. “Finally,” he said as Alex approached, carrying a tray with two coffees, and the paper. “You know, some of us have been up since five.”

From under his blond, floppy hair, Alex smirked, setting down the tray and the paper. “Like you can’t afford any coffeemaker you want. You’re doing pretty well for yourself here, even if you’ve only been open for six months. Besides, not all of us are crazy enough to wake up at five just to torture ourselves with running.”

“It so happens that you owe me a coffee, and might I add, taking up running might do you some good. Still time to get into shape for Valentine’s Day.”

“Valentine’s Day is in a week, and I haven’t had any complaints yet.” Of course he hadn’t—Erik was joking, because Alex was younger than he was and good-looking, although not Erik’s type at all—he preferred bookish with dark hair to jockish with blond. Still, lack of mutual interest aside, they’d struck up a friendship after meeting at the gym: the first friendship Erik had in Port Valentine, which still felt very new.

“Just be prepared,” Erik told him, dry. “A place like this, Port Valentine—they’ve got high standards for their namesake holiday.” Erik hadn’t lived here long, but he’d never seen anything like it. The entire town went all out for Valentine’s Day—red, pink, and white everywhere, parades, crazy contests and promotions. 

“You old cynic,” Alex said. 

“I’ve simply never been one for Valentine’s Day,” Erik told him. “Have you ever heard of a relationship actually being bolstered by cards, flowers, and romantic gestures just because of a commercial holiday? Seems like it does more harm than good.”

“Actually, I think it’s kinda nice. Plus it boosts the local economy. Which you, as a store owner, should appreciate.”

“Yes, nothing boosts the hardware industry like Valentine’s Day.” Erik closed the cash drawer, and took his coffee. “Why did you bring the paper? Started keeping up with the news now?”

“Just saw something that might interest you.” Alex looked unusually triumphant and smug, which was saying something. He took out a folded section of the paper, turned to a page that read “Port Valentine Missed Connections,” and passed it to Erik. “This remind you of anything?” he asked, indicating an ad he’d circled in red. “Like… say… something you were telling me about last month?”

Frowning, Erik read aloud. “‘We met at Club Forty-Five a month ago and I can’t get you out of my head. I didn’t even get your name, but we had a great night together. I was hoping for more. Please meet me at Lockhart’s on Valentine’s Day at seven p.m.’” He swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat, and looked up at Alex. “What does this have to do with me?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Erik. Come on. You don’t think that sounds exactly like that guy you were telling me about?”

“Hundreds of people have to meet at Club Forty-Five a week, let alone a month.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t get his name, did you? And he didn’t get yours.”

“Again, that has to happen constantly.”

“And you told me it was a great night.”

“If that amount of time counted as a night, I did tell you that. Because it was.”

“So? Why not be at the meeting place on Valentine’s Day, see if I’m wrong and you’re right?” 

“As much as I love proving you wrong—”

“Which you do—”

“—Which I do, this is silly, Alex.” Erik realized his heart was beating faster. “Imagine, I get there and there are dozens of guys there waiting.”

“Then it sounds like it would be a great… networking opportunity,” Alex rejoined, with a smirk. “Look, I just feel like this is the guy, okay?”

“Why? That’s absurd.”

Alex pointed to the ad. “He’s so polite in this. You said he was polite.”

“He was. Lots of people are polite.”

“Stop being stubborn. I remember you moping after that night. You miss him, you want to see him again. Find him.”

Erik sighed. “Look—”

“Just promise me you’ll go. It’ll be easy. Go there, then when you see it’s not him, you can leave. Easy, right? Then you can lord it over me.”

“Alex—” 

“Come on, man. You need this. Admit it.”

Erik sighed. “Fine, all right. I’ll see if it’s him.”

“Good!”

“But I’m sure it’s not.”

“Then we’ll see, won’t we?”

“Yes, we will.” Erik put the section of the newspaper behind the counter, and downed the rest of his coffee. 

He realized his heart was still pounding. He hadn’t remotely expected to hear anything about that man again, let alone in the newspaper. Erik actually did agree with Alex that the ad was most likely placed by his mystery man—someone he’d been trying to put out of his mind for weeks now as someone he’d probably never see again—even though the assumption was absurd, for the reasons he himself had spelled out. 

Yet something about it felt right. 

Or was that just wishful thinking? 

For the rest of the day, Erik’s mind was almost completely occupied by anticipation of a possible reunion with the man. Being so distracted wasn’t a great look for a hardware store owner, and Erik was glad when it was time to close. 

He made his way home through the chilly streets, wrapped in a scarf against the cold February air, finding himself wondering again if he’d see the man out here on the sidewalk like himself, scanning the crowd. 

At home, freezing, Erik decided to take a hot shower before bed. His apartment was dark and cold, but in the shower, under the warm spray, Erik could close his eyes, feel the water pounding against his bare skin, and allow himself to think about the man again. 

Alex had no idea what had really gone down at Club Forty-Five. It was a gay club, yes, and it was known for its back rooms and overall permissiveness, so it was easy enough to assume that yes, Erik had met someone, they’d had a good time, and hadn’t gotten each other’s names. Happened all the time, like Erik had told Alex.

But it wasn’t that simple. Not with this man. 

Alex also had a bit of an idea about Erik’s proclivities, even felt comfortable teasing him about how his hardware store had plenty of chains of all different types. Alex still didn’t know what all that did for Erik, why he liked it. And frankly, it wasn’t the sort of thing he really wanted to discuss with him—it was far too personal. At most all he’d made was a passing remark. But it wasn’t that he wasn’t ashamed—Erik didn’t really do shame. He was simply private, that was all.

Under the spray, stinging and hot, Erik once again went over the already well-worn groove that was the memory of his night with the man. 

He’d been at the bar, on an evening that so far had been shaping up to be rather boring. Erik had started to wonder why he’d even gone—he rarely found anyone who was into the same things he was into in the way Erik wanted them to be. 

A man had nudged up next to him, had obviously seen Erik’s nearly-empty glass, and raised a finger to the bartender. “Another one for my friend here, please,” Erik had heard, in what sounded like a foreign accent, even in the noise and chaos of the club.

“I don’t—” he said, turning to the man. 

The man smiled at him with a clever red mouth and arresting blue eyes. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t need another drink,” Erik insisted.

“My apologies, then,” he said, nodding to the bartender as he slid a drink Erik’s way. “Do me a favor and drink that one anyway, won’t you?”

Scowling, Erik downed it. The man was shorter than he was, but he looked stocky, well built. But given the fact that Erik was taller, broader, and dressed in black, he’d found that people made assumptions about what he wanted and why he was at this club in the first place.

“I’m not into what you think I am,” he said to the man over the din.

“What do I think you’re into?”

“You know—”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” the man said. “Perhaps I could hear you better in the back.” He smiled, meaningfully, and turned, and Erik set down his glass and followed.

“Here,” the man said, guiding him into an empty room, much quieter with the door closed. The walls were dark red. “Now you can tell me what I think you’re into. Please, have a seat.”

Erik sat on the black leather chair. The man remained standing, and stepped closer to Erik. Away from the crush of people, Erik could see he was in dark, well-fitting jeans, boots, and a tight black shirt. He folded his arms, and waited patiently for Erik to speak. He had pale skin, silky-looking brown hair, and of course there were those astonishing blue eyes.

Erik swallowed, and then cleared his throat. Just because his heart was pounding and his cock was getting hard didn’t mean he couldn’t stand his ground… even if he was already sitting, and fighting the urge to slide to the floor on his knees. Something about the way the man was standing with his feet apart, so confident but effortlessly casual about it, the way he was regarding him with that appraising gaze….

“People assume,” Erik said, “that I’m into... domination. Dominating others.”

“Are you?”

Erik shook his head. “No.”

“No, I thought not,” the man agreed, stepping closer. 

“How on earth could you tell that by looking at me?”

“Lucky guess,” the man said with a smile. “Well, more than that. A hunch I had. Then I told you to come back here, and you did. Put your hands behind your back,” he added, and Erik moved to do it without thinking, then stopped, mouth dropping open slightly. The man’s smile widened.

Erik frowned. 

“I think you must have made some assumptions about me as well,” the man said, and there was definitely an accent there. British. “Do you assume everyone coming up to you in clubs wants to be dominated?”

“If they’re coming up to me, they usually do,” Erik countered. 

“Yes, must be something to do with your height and your sort of brooding air. While I can understand it, I don’t know why they can’t see what I can see,” he mused.

“Are you going to analyze me some more or are we back here for a reason other than talking?” Erik huffed. 

“Well, if I’m being totally honest, I can’t stop thinking about you on your knees sucking my cock,” the man said, sending a jolt through Erik. He closed his eyes for a moment, since that was exactly what Erik had been thinking about, too. 

Erik blinked, touching the tip of his tongue to his lower lip. He watched the man’s eyes darken. “You just met me and you immediately think I’ll go down on my knees?” he asked, trying to sound sarcastic, his mouth dry. “Not even a kiss first?”

“If it’s a kiss you want—” the man said, stepping forward, resting his weight on his hands on the arms of the chair, bending down to kiss him. 

As his lips met Erik’s, he put one knee between Erik’s thighs, the other between Erik’s leg and the chair’s side, shifting Erik back against the soft, yielding cushion; with that, he was completely in Erik’s space, over him, filling his senses. One hand went to Erik’s jaw as he tilted his mouth against Erik’s, gliding the tip of his tongue into the parting of Erik’s lips; the hand slid to his neck, then to the top of his head to curl in his hair, pulling his head back just slightly, directing his movement in the kiss. 

Erik was dizzy with it, feeling as though his air was being stolen, that he had to breathe it in from this man and his slow, deep, determined kisses.

Erik groped blindly for the man’s sides, moving his hands up under his shirt, feeling his own cock throb at the man’s appreciative purr low in his throat at the touch. His skin was warm and smooth under Erik’s calloused hands. He slid his palms and fingertips along the small of the man’s back, then as far up under his shirt as he could go. The man’s thigh rubbed against Erik’s cock through his jeans; he began to work his tongue against Erik’s in a rhythm, then echoed it with his thigh, until Erik was practically rutting back against him.

It was then that Erik’s phone rang, and he recognized the ringtone as the one he used for his mother.

With a gasp, he wrenched his mouth from the man’s, blinking dazedly at him as he shifted back, pushing the man away somewhat and fumbling in his pocket for his phone, groaning inwardly at how hard he was and how incredibly inopportune this was. At the same time, he felt what was almost relief at having a reason to extricate himself from something that was quickly becoming almost frighteningly intense. She’d keep calling until he answered, anyway—his mother didn’t leave messages, and it might be an emergency—

“ _Hallo_ , Mama,” he said into the phone, breathless, answered by a stream of his mother’s German.

The man looked on, amused, eyes narrowed; he arched a brow, in seeming incredulity. “Shall I leave you to your phone call?” he murmured, standing up fully, flushed and with quite a lump at his fly, a little disheveled but not looking to be as nearly discombobulated as Erik felt. “It seems it’s quite an important one.”

Erik waved a hand impatiently at him, distracted by both trying to listen to his mother and extricate his mind from very vivid and recent memories of what he’d just gotten up to with this man. 

With a bright chuckle, the man shook his head. “All right then, off I go,” he said, with a sigh, and before Erik could say otherwise or protest, he opened the door, and left. 

Erik shot upright, stumbling. “Wait!” he called. “ _Nein, nicht du_ , Mama,” he said into his phone.

He tried to follow the man and find him again—it was no use. The club was too dark and crowded.

He went outside to finish his call with his mother—it was the next day where she lived, and she was very casual about timezones, but it wasn’t an emergency after all—and walked home. And that was the end of his all-too-short encounter with the man.

In the combination of fantasy and memory he’d returned to again and again in the shower for the past month, however, the kiss continued. Or, instead of a kiss, Erik dropped to his knees right away, unbuttoned him, drew down his zipper, and sucked him off: taking him in as far as he could go, swallowing him down in a way that wasn’t exactly safe to do with a stranger.

Sometimes he got off just from that thought; other times, he imagined the man kneeling down with him afterward, getting a hand in his pants, and making him come like that with just a few strokes, as he kissed Erik, tasting himself in Erik’s mouth—

In the shower, those thoughts swirling wildly in his mind like soapy water down the drain, he came in a few tight, fast strokes, gasping and shuddering.

And this time, he was also thinking about that ad. Yes, he’d go—he’d see if this man was his mystery man. On Valentine’s Day, the biggest day in this town. There was a strong possibility that he’d be completely wrong (it would be understandable if the man had given up on him once he’d allowed them to be interrupted by a phone call from his mother), but, well, it might be his only shot, and despite what he’d indicated to Alex, in trying to play it off, he really did want to see that man again. He had suspected that when he’d first mentioned it to Alex—leaving out quite a few bits, but leaving in what was really important—that his studied casualness had betrayed him, and apparently Alex had clued in right away and figured something was up. 

The orgasm, and the hot water, had him definitely sleepy after a long day of thinking about the man and the ad, whether he’d wanted to or not. He got into bed and had no trouble falling asleep, even though it was cold in his bedroom and he could have used the warmth of another body, even a dog or cat, but preferably that bright-eyed man with the sinful mouth.

Erik had spent a long time assuming there was no one out there really for him—he’d accepted that no one really seemed to understand him, that he was too much trouble to deal with. He could be curt, guarded, difficult to know. And as he’d just moved here, there was an uphill battle in seeking out new friends, new people to be with.

Much less did anyone really seem to understand what he wanted in bed—it was foreign to most guys that someone like him didn’t want to take the lead, take control, dole out punishments or pain or even do all the fucking. Erik was fine with changing things up, but—and this was hard to admit to himself, let alone strangers—he wanted to be dominated, not just by any random leather daddy, but by someone who loved him and cared for who and what he was, accepting him totally, understanding him easily. That had seemed even more unreachable than just making a few friends in a new place. But he had a very strong feeling, whether it was nonsensical or not, that this mystery man might be the one for that, and this ad really felt like the chance Erik had been waiting for.

But whether that was really the case remained to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

Feeling a blush heating his cheeks, Charles set the newspaper aside as a group of young people approached the reference counter. He looked up at them through his glasses (his sister made fun of him for being a stereotypical librarian in glasses and cardigans, but he was starting to need the glasses, damn it), and with a smile asked them what he could help them with, as though nothing were amiss, as though he hadn’t seen his personal ad printed right there in the Port Valentine Missed Connections section like a blaring beacon. 

Just reading those words, like he had been over and over for the past few minutes over his morning coffee, reminded him of the man he’d met that night. Although in the text he was objectively very vague—perhaps too vague, meaning his plan might be a failure—to himself, personally, the words were quite evocative. He could almost taste the man’s lips again, hear his gasps in that room at the back of the club last month—

But this wouldn’t do. He couldn’t be distracted by such thoughts at work. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to clear his head. 

The kids wanted to know if they could use the largest table for a study session, and Charles gave them permission. As they walked away, he surveyed his surroundings. The library had been decorated earlier in the week with cut-out hearts in pink and red, with crepe hanging everywhere and ridiculous cartoon cupids taped up in every available corner, some with goofy expressions, threatening to fire their love-arrows—now there was a euphemism—into the hearts of the unsuspecting. There was glitter everywhere. 

It was all a bit much.

But Port Valentine took Valentine’s Day extremely seriously. There were sales, parades, even a 5K—ostensibly for heart disease awareness, as February was the month for that—complete with runners skimpily dressed as Cupid in the chilly air. Charles was new here, but he had caught on quickly to the general theme, which only kicked into higher gear when the true date actually approached.

And this year Charles had gone out on a limb, putting out an ad asking someone to meet him on that date at a particular place. He was likely making a fool of himself; anyone could show up. Many people could show up. Worse, no one could show up. The odds that the mystery man from the club—the one with the chiseled jaw, the breathtaking green eyes with those long lashes, the purring voice, the lean body that seemed so eager to yield to Charles’ wishes—would show up were very low to nonexistent.

Yet he had to try. Their encounter had been far too brief, interrupted by, of all things, a call from his mother, something which would immediately disqualify most men but which with this man had been weirdly charming, at least in retrospect. But as things had turned out, they’d barely even gotten started, and they didn’t have each other’s names. He’d half expected the man to hang up and follow him, and maybe he’d tried and not been fast enough, but Charles hadn’t wanted to stand there while he took a call; it was a tad insulting. Perhaps he should have, but, well, there was nothing he could do about that now. All he could do was place an ad and see if anyone answered it.

Charles hadn’t told anyone else about the man, which was somewhat uncharacteristic of him, and he hadn’t made much of an effort to find him practically speaking, which was also out of the ordinary for him. Until he’d placed that ad, at least. He hadn’t told anyone, even his sister, about the man because strangely it felt like he wanted to preserve that fragile, brief interaction between them, as though talking about it would cheapen it.

Which was a really silly way to look at a one-time encounter in the back of a gay club.

Wasn’t it?

Maddeningly, Charles kept thinking about how, when he was kissed, the man—perfect stubbled jaw and all—had absolutely _melted_ for him. With a soft little exhalation of breath, his shoulders had dropped slightly and he’d submitted to the kiss, to the plundering of Charles’ tongue. 

Charles wanted to feel that, to be the cause of that, again. Lots of lots of times.

Of course, the man could be long gone by now. He’d spoken to his mother in German; although Charles hadn’t detected an accent, he might not even be living in this country. It was also possible that he’d been grateful for the out the phone call had given him, that he had no intention of connecting with Charles again for whatever reason, although he’d certainly seemed into it at the time. Perhaps he’d been rattled.

But Charles couldn’t stop thinking about him, about what would have happened if they’d kept on and hadn’t been interrupted. A month or so later, would they still be together? Or would that night have ended, after all, with that kiss? Or with a blowjob, a handjob, a quick fuck, something sordid and hot? Something sweet? Would the man have come to Charles’ place? 

Maybe by now, by Valentine’s Day, they’d be falling in love. 

Or perhaps that chance was gone forever. 

Lost in thought, Charles stared at the ad, worrying his lower lip, until someone came up to the desk.

“Charles?”

“Oh! Moira,” Charles said, startled out of his reverie by his coworker. “Hello.”

“I didn’t mean to make you jump,” she said. Frowning slightly, tilting her head, she added, “Charles, are you all right?”

“What…. What do you mean?” Charles cleared his throat, and took a drink of tea from his mug. 

“You’ve seemed really distracted lately.” Moira came around the desk with her own cup, the strong coffee she loved so much, and sat next to him. She crossed her legs; Moira favored short skirts and colorful thick stockings in winter, regardless of the rain and snow, and looked gorgeous as usual. She tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, and looked at him with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just… well. Sometime back, I had an… encounter with this… man, this very good-looking man, and—”

“You’re smitten.”

“I suppose you could say that, yes,” Charles said wryly, with a little smile. 

“I noticed something was up a couple of weeks ago, but debated saying anything.” Moira was very quick to catch on and notice things; it was remarkable that she hadn’t asked earlier. He must seem really out of it today. “So, who is he?”

“Well, that’s just the problem, you see, I don’t know. We didn’t get a chance to learn each other’s names.”

“Mm-hmm,” Moira said, raising a brow and nodding. “So, it’s like that,” she teased.

“Well, yes, that and he got a phone call before things really got started,” Charles explained, and just then some children came up to the desk with their mother. “Er, there’s not much more to tell, Moira, I’ll catch up with you on break,” he said, turning to them. Moira went to her own station.

But he didn’t return to the subject on break with her, and although he was sure she noticed, she didn’t mention it. Charles hoped to avoid the discussion; although he considered Moira his friend, she was a work friend first and foremost. It wouldn’t do for Charles to end up gossiping about his love life—or whatever this was—at work. People at work definitely didn’t know, for example, that he liked going to clubs, that he liked getting a little rough with men every now and then. Not that they would believe it—Charles was very much a khakis, cardigans, and Chukkas sort, and even though this was the Pacific Northwest, those who might believe it might not all be wild about Charles being a children’s and youth librarian. As it was, however, even if they didn’t mind at all, Charles didn’t want that information out all over the place. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, far from it—it was just so personal. 

And so few would understand—people had their firm ideas about what type of person liked what in bed. Most men assumed someone rather small like himself wanted to be submissive, to be pushed around, to be fucked, and while there wasn’t anything wrong with that and Charles at times did feel that way, this man had accepted what Charles wanted as soon as they’d sorted things out. As a result, Charles’ mind wandered to the man in different poses, lean and gorgeous in submission, perfect and dignified but giving himself up completely, and only to Charles.

The potential he’d sensed had been incredible.

The next few days, with Valentine’s Day approaching, found Charles getting increasingly anxious. Not nervous, exactly, but anxious. Charles wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Each night leading up to it, he thought about that kiss. Lying in bed, his hand would inevitably end up in his pants, and he’d stroke his cock thinking about it: the man’s taste, the stubble of his jaw, the feel of his hands over Charles’ skin, up and down his back under his shirt. The feel of his cock trapped in his jeans as Charles rubbed against it; he’d felt enormous, and it was a pity Charles never got his hands on that, through his jeans or otherwise. Charles kept trying to picture him naked, wanting to know what he looked like on his back, on his hands and knees. Hands tied… blindfolded… gagged. Many possibilities. But always perfect.

Oh God, it was only two days away now. He’d been too vague! There was no way the mystery man had been able to figure it out, if he’d ever even seen it. He had no chance in hell. Taking off his glasses, Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, and sighed. It was almost time to go home, where he’d probably spend another evening fretting, biting his nails, and eventually masturbating—

“Charles?” 

Moira again. “Yes, Moira?” Opening his eyes, he popped his glasses back on and smiled at her.

She sat down next to him. “I feel like you want to talk about whatever’s going on. With that guy you met.”

All right, perhaps he did. “That’s the thing, Moira—there’s nothing going on.”

“You have no idea where he is or what his name is?”

Charles sighed. “I only know that he’s incredibly handsome and that he speaks German.”

“Have you made any effort to find him? If it’s been a month—”

“Well, I….” Trailing off, Charles rubbed the back of his head, feeling a flush rise on his cheeks. “I may have placed an ad in the Port Valentine Missed Connections section, asking him to meet me at Lockhart’s, that new hipster bar, on Valentine’s Day.”

“Charles, that’s only a few days away!”

Charles groaned. “I know, I know.”

“Let me see the ad,” Moira said, looking around their desk area.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, it’s just—”

“I want to see it,” Moira said firmly, shuffling through papers. “Aha!” Charles reached halfheartedly for the page, but Moira held it away from him as she scanned it. “Oh, Charles, are you sure that’s not too vague?”

Charles groaned again. “I’m afraid it might be.”

“People have to meet without getting each other’s names in that place all the time.”

“Yes, I’m sure they do, thank you, Moira.” Charles sighed, and put his head in his hands. “Why am I so hung up on this man? I may never see him again.”

“Well, he obviously made a serious impression on you in a very short amount of time.” Moira covered her mouth with her hand to hide a smile, but recovered, looking at him with a lot of compassion in her dark eyes. “I have to say, I’ve never seen you like this, Charles.”

“Do you have any advice for me?”

“I just hope he shows up.”

Charles couldn’t help smiling, but he sighed again. “I’m afraid that’s not very helpful.”

Moira shrugged, smiling back. “What? That’s more or less all I have. Unless you want clothes advice, in which case I have to say, Charles, your typical work clothes might not cut it—”

“No, no, I have that handled, I think, thank you,” Charles said. “I don’t dress like this everywhere, you know.” He paused. “And wait, what exactly is wrong with my typical work clothes?”

“Nothing, nothing. So… if you do meet him on Valentine’s Day, what next?”

“Well, that depends on how he reacts. And frankly I hadn’t given that so much thought.”

“If he meets you that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“I would assume so, unless he meets me only to tell me to knock it off.” Charles tapped his pen on the desk, and sighed again.

“But if he’s into you, are you up for it?”

“I think so, yes.” Reminiscing once more about his fantasies of the man, Charles looked away to hide his blush—or so he thought.

Moira chuckled softly. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

Of course, Charles realized on his way home, the odds were good that even if he were to strike up a relationship with this man, it would end, like all his other relationships had so far, and probably due to Charles not knowing when to leave well enough alone. He had a tendency to be a bit of a control freak, he’d been told, and he could get a bit arrogant and condescending. He liked to encourage those he was involved with, and some people found him to be pushy after a time. He could, he supposed, be domineering.

But perhaps this man wouldn’t see his tendencies in a negative light. Perhaps they’d mesh well together. 

He unlocked his door, sighing to himself. He couldn’t get his hopes up and pin everything on this man. Just because he was getting tired of coming home alone to a dark, empty, cold apartment didn’t mean the mystery man was meant for him. 

That said, it didn’t hurt to hope.

No sooner had he set down his things and turned on the lights than his sister called. They’d grown apart in the years since Charles had left library school—Raven was more interested in political action, and she’d moved to California to pursue her interest—but she still called regularly, sometimes just to lecture him. In fairness, he lectured her right back. Even though they weren’t blood siblings, they fought and argued and defended each other against outsiders as if they were. 

“Raven.”

“Charles. Did you try that recipe I told you about?”

“I did, actually, it was quite good. Thank you. But I know that’s not why you’ve called.”

Raven scoffed. “You never returned my call, so I figured something was going on.”

“Checking up on me?”

“Someone has to.”

“Are you saying I can’t look after myself?” Charles teased gently, wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear as he took out a Tupperware container of the recipe’s leftovers from the fridge. “You taught me to cook ages ago.”

“And yet you barely ever do it,” she answered, with a snort. “You act like you’re still living at home, with a chef, or in college making ramen every night.”

Charles opened the container and took a sniff of its contents, frowning in consideration for a moment. Yes, it would do. “Did you just call to make me feel bad?”

“Of course. No, like I said, I hadn’t heard from you and I was checking up. Look, Charles, I’m just concerned. I know you’re new there, but you’re too much of a people person to spend much time alone.”

“Excuse me, how did you decide I must be spending too much time alone? Maybe I haven’t called you because I’ve been busy.” He scooped out the cold, rather slimy leftovers onto a plate, and popped it in the microwave.

“If I’m wrong, I’m wrong, but I have a hunch I’m not. Don’t get mopey, Charles. Maybe it’s the gloomy weather up there, but you have a tendency to get in a rut. I know you don’t know that many people there yet, but please, promise me you’ll get out there and meet someone. This week, maybe.”

Charles smiled to himself. “All right, all right. Maybe I will.”

“Promise! No ‘maybe.’”

“Fine, fine! I promise. Honestly, Raven, and you say I’m pushy.”

“Ha! You think this is pushy—”

“For pity’s sake. I’ll do it, I’ll meet someone this week. I promise.”

“All right. Good.” At that point, the microwave dinged. “Is that the microwave, Charles? What did I say?”

“You’re right, yes, I heated something up in the microwave. Sue me, won’t you? That’s what they’re for, heating up food.” He took out the plate, mindful of the hot surface, and set it on the counter. “Now, will you leave me alone to eat?”

“Fine, I will. But do it, Charles.”

“Yes, yes. Bye, Raven.” Charles set his phone aside, and leaning against the counter at the sink, in the now quiet and still rather dark and cold apartment, he ate his dinner in silence.

Predictably, his thoughts strayed again to the man. What if he were there? Charles imagined him taking his jacket and scarf off, smiling at Charles, coming in for a kiss. A lingering kiss. Then they’d ask each other about their respective days. Then another lingering kiss, with the man pressing him back against the counter, Charles then curling his fingers in the man’s shirt and gently but inexorably pushing back, pressing him against the refrigerator, maybe, rubbing against him as they kissed more, unable to resist each other. The man would make those soft noises and then they wouldn’t be able to delay things any longer, they’d strip off their clothes on the way to the bedroom. Then he’d have the man under him, naked and warm and welcoming, and the best part would be that it would be normal, the way they ended most days. The man would let Charles kiss him, touch him, bite him, dote on him, because that would just be what they did together. Then they’d fall asleep wrapped up tight in each other, warm, comfortable, and blissfully content. 

His dinner done, Charles set his dishes in the sink and with a sigh went to go change into his pajamas. His bedroom was, naturally, dark and cold. 

In bed under the covers, with a sudden jolt he realized tomorrow was the day before Valentine’s Day. It was almost time for the meeting, assuming it would even take place. And then whatever happened would happen—he’d either see him again and start something with him, or he’d have to move on from this strange crush.

As he fell asleep, he couldn’t help hoping the situation would shake out to be the former. And it didn’t hurt anything to hope, did it?


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m not nervous,” Erik whispered to himself like a mantra as he loaded the cash drawer. “I’m not nervous. I’m not nervous.” He closed the drawer with a decisive slam. “I don’t get nervous,” he added.

He could almost believe it.

After all, he wasn’t the nervous type—he thought it was a waste of time to get worked up about everything. 

Still, he thought it would be a good idea to go shopping after work. Get some new clothes. He hadn’t really had a chance to go shopping since he’d moved here, not really, and his old clothes didn’t seem like they’d cut it. Not for something as potentially important as this. 

But before he got off work to go shopping, he’d have to actually get through the day. 

“I’m not nervous. I’m not nervous,” he whispered to himself, as Alex walked in with the coffee.

“What’s that?” Alex asked, cheerful, setting down the tray.

“Nothing.”

“Because I could have sworn I heard you whispering ‘I’m not nervous.’”

“I wasn’t.”

“Ah. Right.” Alex took out his cup and handed Erik’s to him. “I thought maybe you were nervous because tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day, and you’d be seeing if you could meet that guy, but you were trying to tell yourself you weren’t nervous. Wouldn’t be anything like that, would it?” He smirked.

“Of course not,” Erik said, and took a long drink of his coffee. A very long drink.

Alex watched him and cocked a brow. “There’s no alcohol in that, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wow, I’ve never known you to be nervous.”

“I’m not n—”

“It’s okay, man. But really, you have nothing to worry about. Either it’s the guy, and you walk off into the sunset, happily ever after—” Alex ignored Erik’s scoffing— “or it’s not him, and you move on with your life. And I mean, quite frankly, if for some reason it is him and he ends up turning you down, well, it’s his loss. Honestly.”

Setting down the coffee, Erik sighed, folding his arms. He admitted, “I’ve never been hung up on someone like this before. Not after only having seen them once. I don’t know what it is about him.”

“Well, I guess you’ll find out tomorrow night,” Alex said. “Seriously, Erik. Don’t sweat it.”

Alex stuck around a while longer until he had to leave to go to work. There were enough customers for the rest of the morning that Erik didn’t really have much time to dwell on his nervous excitement about the next evening. He was tempted at lunchtime to run out to get some clothes, rather than wait until tonight, but opted not to. 

After he closed the store, however, he walked several blocks to a large men’s clothing shop he’d gone past quite often: Armando’s. Fortunately, it was still open. 

The employee who greeted Erik turned out to also be the owner, the eponymous Armando. “Anything I can help you with?” he’d asked, and Erik found himself telling him that he’d met someone last month and was responding to a “missed connections” ad tomorrow. Although Armando was amused, he was also sympathetic. 

“I have to admit,” Erik said, “that a lot of the clothes I’d brought here are pretty much just suitable for my job at the hardware store. I sold some of the other stuff I had.”

“All right, so for this date,” Armando mused, ignoring the way Erik flinched when he said “date,” “I see you in something sleek, classic. Simple. Darker tones. Elegant. What do you think about that black mock turtleneck there? With some narrow slacks, Chelsea boots, I think you could really pull that look off. Someone as long and lean as you are.”

Erik considered. “Okay, I’ll give that a try.”

Minutes later he was dressed in the entire outfit and standing in front of the full-length, multi-angle mirrors outside the dressing rooms as Armando scrutinized him. In his own estimation, Erik knew he looked pretty good, but it was still gratifying when Armando agreed, adding, “I’d almost say that if I were still designing I’d want you as either my model or my muse.” 

“High praise indeed,” Erik said, preening a little.

“Even if the guy you see tomorrow isn’t ‘the guy,’” Armando remarked, “I’d say hang around a little, because you are definitely going to be meeting somebody in that.”

At home, once he’d cooked a quick dinner Erik took a call from his mother, who sometimes woke up incredibly early just to catch him before he went to bed. 

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day there,” she said. “It’s too bad you haven’t found anyone yet that I could have met if I’d gone over there to visit.”

“Mama,” he told her, “you hate flying, you wouldn’t come over here just for that.”

“I might!” she responded. “If you’d met someone important to you, I might. Better if you come here, though. Much easier for me. But sweetheart, I just want you to meet someone.”

“I haven’t lived here that long. Give me a moment.” Give me until tomorrow night, he thought to himself.

Once he’d wrapped up the conversation with his mother, he decided to wind down and warm up with an actual hot bath. The nervous tension he’d been carrying throughout the day was starting to take its toll, and he wanted to actually sleep well tonight if he possibly could. 

He drew up a warm, fragrant bath, and lay in it in silence, alone with his thoughts. However, unsurprisingly, said thoughts started drifting toward the mystery man. As the heat melted the aches in his muscles, he began to feel an ache in his cock, his mind stirring with the image of the man coming in, stripping off his clothes to reveal his pale, firm body, and climbing into the bath with Erik, kissing him, getting his hand around Erik’s cock.

Closing his eyes, he jerked himself off, with a leisurely pace at first, letting himself savor it. Soon enough, however, he was impatient, his grip tightening as he thought of what the man might do: tease him? Pause to kiss him? Tell Erik to start jerking him off as well? Whatever the case, in Erik’s mind they both ended up coming, hard, slick with come and water, flushed and hot. 

After that, skin slightly damp and warm from the bath, he crawled into bed and immediately fell asleep, despite how cold it was in his room.


	4. Chapter 4

Midmorning of February thirteenth, Charles acknowledged that he was beside himself. He was fidgeting with his pens, running his hand repeatedly through his hair, and walking around unnecessarily, starting to do things that had already been done. 

“Nervous?” Moira asked, teasing, on her way out for lunch.

“No,” Charles informed her, slightly haughty. “I’m fine.”

“Pace yourself, Charles,” she said before walking to the door. “You still have to get through an entire work day tomorrow.”

That evening, Charles wanted to clear his head, calm himself, and get ready for the next day. He was definitely not expecting to receive a text from an ex-boyfriend. 

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” it said. “Thinking of you. Hope it’s a good one. -Steve.”

Steve.

He’d been the best boyfriend anyone could ask for: considerate, intelligent, great sense of humor. A tall, handsome blond, Steve had been Charles’ boyfriend back in New York for nearly two years until they finally realized and admitted to each other—well, it was Steve who’d finally said something—that although they looked like a great match on paper, in reality they didn’t have that much chemistry. Not enough to last. It had been a strange time for Charles—he’d known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that while Steve was wonderful, there wasn’t quite the spark there should have been.

He wondered, now, what the text meant. Was Steve just being polite? If they had both been in New York, or if Steve had moved to Seattle, would this be a subtle booty call, allowing Charles to see the hint or not with no loss on either side?

The whole thing with Steve had been too neat, too obvious, too simple, Charles knew now. They snuggled up together on Steve’s couch, they went to movies and out to dinner, they went on long walks. It looked ideal, but it was bloodless, Charles could see more clearly now. It had been bland the entire time, even though Steve himself was not bland, had a sharp wit. But the two of them didn’t bring out sparks and highlights of each other; they melded into a tranquil, pleasant duo. Which for many would be fine; ideal, even. But it hadn’t been quite enough for Charles, and evidently Steve had felt the same way.

In bed, Steve, despite his size and muscular build, had been a bottom, graceful and needy and beautiful. And he liked to submit, although neither of them ever really talked about it. He submitted very easily, however, and Charles realized now that he hated to think of it that way but the fact was Steve had been too quick to go down. He offered no resistance, not even in play. Charles absolutely didn’t want anyone who wasn’t willing, not at all, but if there was no challenge then it simply wasn’t interesting. In the interim, he’d played with a few men he hadn’t known very well, but the semi-anonymity just made things rather boring, really. He wanted someone he knew, whose secrets he and only he could tease out, with patience and work, someone who’d present a challenge, someone who wanted it badly but wouldn’t give himself up right away because he believed in being worked for, in someone earning his trust.

Someone, maybe, like the man he’d met the other day. The man he hoped to see again tomorrow night.

Still, though, what happened with Steve did make him worry a bit. Steve had been wonderful—almost objectively so. He was a thoroughly decent, good man, and funny too. If it hadn’t worked out with someone like him, what chance might he have making it work with anyone else? Yes, it was down to chemistry, but something in the back of his mind whispered that Steve was the best he could have done, and if it hadn’t worked with him….

It was stupid, however, to be tempted to pin all his hopes on this one man he’d seen one time. He knew next to nothing about him. He could have any number of problems. In contrast to Steve, he could end up making Charles’ life a living hell. 

Something, however, was telling Charles it would be worth a shot.

“Thank you. Hope yours is good too,” he texted back to Steve.

One thing he’d always liked about Steve was his commitment, his devotion to something if he believed in it. There was no wishy-washy attitude or fear of getting involved with Charles if that’s what he wanted to do, which for a long time, it was. No, Steve was steadfast. Charles hadn’t realized how much he valued that.

And, he realized, that was something very important to him. No playing around, no one-night stands—not anymore. That time was over. Ideally, if he did end up meeting the mystery man tomorrow, and everything went well, he wanted a long-term relationship with him, if at all possible. No flameout of a one-night stand. It was possible that would have been all they’d had if the man hadn’t gotten that phone call, too. Maybe the fact that they were interrupted, and Charles had to seek him out now, meant that they had a chance now to get to know each other, in ways they wouldn’t have bothered with if they’d spent just that night together.

In bed that night, he couldn’t help thinking about what it had been like with Steve. At that point, Charles was aware of his proclivities, his like of dominating and his desire to be in control. He liked taking care of whoever he was with, but more importantly, he liked being worthy of the trust that entailed. It was an honor, in its way. Steve trusted him with no problem, and as gratifying as that was, he felt as though he hadn’t had to earn it. One would think that was the ideal situation, but it hadn’t truly pleased Charles’ heart, as nice as it had been for his cock. And even then, he had to admit it always was a baseline pleasure. There had been no special thrill to having Steve on his knees, no sensation that he’d won him.

God knew Steve was hot, though. He was built like a Greek god, although to hear him tell it he’d been very scrawny throughout his childhood and teenage years. Charles had no reason to doubt that. Steve still moved at times like someone not quite used to his body, his strange combination of self-consciousness and lack of pretense striking Charles as very endearing. 

He’d been beautifully responsive, too. Charles slipped a hand under the waistband of his pajama trousers, remembering how attuned Steve had been to him, how obedient, and how intense. He wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it to full hardness. However, with a bit of a start he felt a pang of betrayal of the mystery man, which was absurd, and yet there it was, and once he started thinking about him, Steve, the man he’d actually slept with many times, almost vanished. 

In his place was the man, as he’d been so many times: bending over, lean and graceful. Hands behind his back. On his knees. On his back on the bed. In the shower, completely undone by something as simple as a kiss from Charles as the hot water pounded their skin. In bed in the morning, sleeping after having exhausted himself. His thoughts smoothly shifted into no longer being memories of Steve with Steve replaced, but in entirely new ones, where Charles got to do things he’d always wanted to do but either hadn’t brought up or hadn’t been given permission. The mystery man bound in ropes, a slightly defiant gleam in his eye. Letting Charles feed him by hand, with seeming reluctance even as he was obviously hard and willing. Charles paddling the man as he knelt. Charles wasn’t too into physical punishment, but if the man was, and they got together, he’d be all too happy to give him what he needed.

It was on a thought of the man beneath him, wrapped around him, sweaty and panting as Charles fucked him and kissed him, that Charles came, alone in his rather chilly and dark room. He blinked at the ceiling, and grabbed a tissue to wipe himself off. 

Tomorrow. He’d just have to get through work tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

Valentine’s Day dawned clear and cold. Erik woke up thinking “Today’s the day,” and then immediately got ready to go on his morning run.

He was determined to treat this like any other day. Nevermind the hammering of his heart and the fact that he could barely get breakfast down.

“I’m not nervous. I never get nervous,” he repeated to himself, like a mantra.

The usual run followed by the usual opening of the store for the day did help him in pretending that this was just another day, nothing special, except for the fact that everywhere he went, including the outside of the store, everything was festooned with red and pink. Even more so than had already been the case earlier in the week. It was madness.

His attempt to pretend things were normal degraded even more when Alex showed up with his coffee, and a knowing grin.

“You all set, then?” Alex asked, in a teasing tone.

“Of course,” Erik said loftily. “Everything’s fine,” he added, and Alex laughed. 

“You’re freaking out,” Alex said.

“I am not freaking out,” Erik said, narrowing his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” He took a long drink of coffee, as did Erik, grateful for the break in conversation. “But seriously, man,” he added, “it’s like I’ve told you. You’re good. You have nothing to worry about. You’re awesome.”

“I know I have nothing to worry about, Alex,” Erik said through gritted teeth. “The more pep talk I receive, the more I feel there’s an actual problem being compensated for. Overcompensated, I should say.”

“All right, if you really want me to stop talking about it, we can,” Alex said, raising a hand. “But the question then becomes if you have anything else you want to talk about.”

Erik frowned at him, because damn it, he was right. All that was on Erik’s mind was today’s meeting. He wished desperately that that were not the case—he wanted to feel comfortable talking about something, anything else—but nothing else held his attention. He was obsessing, he knew, and he wanted more than anything right now for the day to be over so that he could finally, finally see the mystery man—assuming it was even him and he wasn’t working himself up for nothing—and get it all over with. The anticipation was killing him.

“I challenge you to find something else for us to talk about that actually interests me,” he told Alex.

“Oh yeah? You’re giving out challenges now?”

“Unless you want to either leave or listen to me talk about tonight.”

“I mean, we can talk about tonight. What are you planning to wear?”

“You know Armando’s down the street?”

“Of course.”

“He picked out a few things for me. He claimed I looked like one of his models.”

Alex whistled. “Well, well. Don’t get it give you a big head, pal.”

“If this store goes under, I’ll at least have a way to make money.”

“Always good. Hey, do you want to grab dinner tonight, before you go out?”

Erik considered. He’d planned to spend time alone before the… meetup, date, whatever it would end up being, but spending time with Alex might help him in acting as though this were any other day. And it would ensure he got some food in his belly. Otherwise, he could see himself sitting alone in his apartment, obsessing, too nervous to eat (although he didn’t get nervous). “Sure,” he answered. “That sandwich shop we go to? At seven?”

“Let’s do it,” Alex said, fistbumping him. With that, he was off to his job.

A shipment came in that day, so Erik had plenty to do directing the unloading of the truck and checking inventory, and that distracted him enough to get through the hours until dinner. 

At dinner with Alex, he did manage to find other things to talk about—mostly boring things, like local news, and what it was like in Germany. He was exceedingly grateful to Alex for encouraging the conversation in those directions. But at the back of his mind the whole time was the coming evening.

The sandwich place was close enough to Erik’s apartment that he went home to change right after dinner was over. It was cold and dark in his apartment. He couldn’t help wondering whether he’d be taking the man he’d meet tonight back here, and with that in mind he straightened the place up a bit. Had to look respectable, just in case.

He took a quick shower, and carefully combed his hair. He dressed meticulously, wanting to look his best in this aspect as well. Not that he usually had a problem looking sharp. On went the black mock turtleneck, the sleek narrow trousers, the black dress socks, the black leather boots. His jacket was lighter brown leather. Altogether, he knew he looked good. If this man didn’t agree, then perhaps he would go elsewhere and try someone else. No sense in wasting it.

The bar mentioned in the ad was a small, hip one, the type that was standing-room only, and loud, and which served sophisticated cocktails and artisanal, locally sourced small plates of artfully stacked food. In other words, it wasn’t Erik’s usual type of place. Maybe it wasn’t the man’s either; maybe it just had the name recognition.

It was already busy, with pink and red lights decorating everything, and special Valentine’s Day cocktails written up on the board outside. Casting his gaze around the crowd, Erik suddenly wondered if he’d have trouble identifying the man, if he’d misremembered his face. But then again, it would be hard to forget those incredible blue eyes. 

He went to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic to calm his jangling nerves, while discreetly looking around to see if the mystery man was here. Maybe he was late. Erik was always punctual, sometimes to a fault, but why other people thought it was acceptable to be late was beyond him. Perhaps he was too German to understand. 

Crammed in at the bar, when he got his drink Erik scanned the menu boards posted on the wall as he drank it down. The gin seemed to kill any germs that had ever lived in his mouth, and burned his stomach. He could, however, soon feel the effects of the alcohol, warming him a bit and making him feel less on edge.

The place was getting even more crowded. Erik craned to look at the general area of the doorway, and as he did his eye was caught by a man just entering, wearing a puffy black coat and pulling off his knit hat to reveal thick, shiny brown hair as he scanned the crowd, looking frazzled—as one might if one were late for a meeting with someone. He had a light smattering of gingery beard growth, pale skin, red lips, and those same big blue eyes, Erik realized as he strode over to him, his nearly empty glass forgotten at the bar.

Stopping in front of him, Erik stared, lost for words suddenly. The man stared at him, mouth dropping open slightly. Oh, it was definitely him. Then he laughed, a low, rich chuckle, eyes twinkling.

“It’s you,” they both said at once.

“Oh, thank God,” the man said, sighing in relief. “I was afraid you wouldn’t see my ad. I wasn’t sure what else to do.” He paused, looking suddenly alarmed. “You are here because of the ad, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Erik said, tongue-tied for anything more. 

The man’s eyes were so blue, and he looked at Erik so knowingly, as if he could see into his mind, his heart, effortlessly. He laughed again. “My name is Charles,” the man told him. 

“Erik,” Erik replied.

“Erik,” the man—Charles—repeated, beaming. “It’s lovely to actually meet you, Erik.” Then, before Erik could react, the man stepped close to him and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. His coat was cold, but Erik could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He wrapped his arms around Charles in turn, breathing in the scent of him. They stayed like that for a few moments, until Erik wondered if people around them were staring—not that he cared if they were.

“Have you gotten something to drink?” Charles asked, stepping back, a flush on his cheeks now, eyes bright. “I’m terribly sorry I’m late, otherwise I would have bought you something right off. Traffic was a nightmare.”

“Just a gin and tonic,” Erik answered. “I’m set, actually, I think.”

“Well, I’m going to grab something for myself—Come on, then,” Charles said, taking Erik’s hand in his gloved one and pulling him though the crowd to the bar, on the less busy side, near two miraculously empty chairs up against the wall. Erik let himself be pulled, staring at the back of Charles’ head, this shorter but powerful man. 

Erik sat against the wall, body turned to face Charles, who, drink in hand, smiled at him, looking overjoyed. Erik couldn’t help smiling back. Charles’ gaze kept traveling over his face, and he kept looking as though he were about to say something, biting his lip before he could. Erik was on the verge of asking him what he meant to say, but instead they kept smiling at each other, until Charles laughed again.

“I feel like a schoolboy,” he said.

“I do too,” Erik admitted.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been so attracted to someone,” Charles said, lowering his voice a bit, leaning in a bit more and causing Erik to lean in as well to catch him over the din. Clever trick, but he was going with it. “We’d barely even spoken,” he mused, almost conspiratorial in tone. “I was afraid you weren’t interested in the slightest and you wouldn’t show up and I’d have to find someone else to obsess over.” He laughed softly. 

“You’ve been obsessing over me?” Erik asked, teasing a bit. 

“I must admit that I have been, yes,” Charles answered. “I hoped you’d been thinking about me, too, but I couldn’t go so far as to be confident that you were.”

“I might have been,” Erik said, a little cagey, looking out at the crowd instead of right at Charles. “Just a bit.”

“Oh good, I’m glad,” Charles said. “You know, I usually ended up thinking about what might have happened if you hadn’t—”

“—Gotten that phone call,” Erik finished, and groaned. “I’m sorry, but… my mother won’t take no answer for an answer. She’d have kept calling until she spoke to me.”

“No need to apologize,” Charles told him. “But I did worry that you were somehow put off by me and all too happy to take that call as an excuse to stop things.”

“Not at all,” Erik said firmly. “If she hadn’t called, we’d have—”

“We’d have what? Done what?” Charles asked, hushed, with those intent blue eyes looking into his as if there were no one else in the entire bar, the entire world.

Erik swallowed, mind racing with images. “Anything. Everything.”

“And what would we be to each other afterward, do you think?”

“What do you mean?” 

“As much as I wanted more from you that night….” Charles sat back a bit, looking thoughtful. “I couldn’t help wondering, if we’d gotten everything we wanted from that one encounter, that one night, whether we’d burn out completely and not want to see each other again.”

“Really? You think our interest in each other would be that brief?”

“I don’t know, that’s the thing. I wouldn’t have known. It would be… transactional, that way. We’d go home satisfied, maybe assuming the other didn’t want anything more.”

“You think so?” Erik was skeptical. 

“There’s value in anonymous meetings. Maybe we’d both assume that’s what the other wanted, and nothing else. A quick hookup. God knows it’s happened many a time.”

“You think we wouldn’t be exceptions?”

“I can hope,” Charles answered, with a shrug. “And there’s nothing wrong with it, really, is there? I’ve enjoyed it before. You meet someone, you get down to business, you go your separate ways. Everyone’s happy.”

“I suppose.” Erik shrugged too. He was a little perturbed trying to determine what exactly Charles was trying to say. Not that he was against one-night stands or hookups. Obviously. But he’d thought this was about something more than that. He’d assumed there was more potential. Maybe Charles didn’t really believe that about them. Maybe he really had just placed the ad in order to have a successful one-night stand with him, as satisfying as it would probably be. Strange.

Charles cleared his throat. “I’d like to know more about you, you know,” he told Erik. “So far, what I know of you mostly amounts to that you’re handsome and you speak German.”

Erik grinned. “I’m handsome, am I?”

“Something I’m sure you’re very well aware of,” Charles said, narrowing his eyes and arching a brow, an expression so funny Erik had to laugh.

“I might have been told something like that before.”

“Once or twice, perhaps.” Charles smiled that sunny but knowing smile and lightly put a hand on Erik’s knee. “So. Tell me about yourself.”

“I… moved here relatively recently. I own a hardware store downtown.”

“A hardware store?” Charles looked surprised, then intrigued. “Why’d you move here to open a hardware store? If I may ask.”

“You may. I’d owned a place before, in the suburbs of Chicago, but I was getting weary of it. I wanted a new venue, and I wanted to focus on the urban market. You know, hipster kids living downtown wanting artisan shit,” he quipped. “Pretentious, but they do have style. And money.”

Charles laughed. “You’re joking, I know, but I have a feeling a man like you wouldn’t just move out here with a hardware store on a lark. You believe in the work.”

“I do,” Erik said, a little surprised by Charles’ acuity. “Every town needs a hardware store.” That was something he really did believe. It was obvious, he thought.

“This is very true,” Charles agreed, and took a drink. “Erik,” he added, conspiratorial again, “do you happen to sell chains and ropes at your hardware store?”

Erik swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, feeling his face heat. He’d almost forgotten the shared interests that had drawn them together in the first place. “It so happens I do, yes.”

“Wonderful.” Smile more mischievous now, Charles patted his leg. “Another drink, perhaps?”

“Yes, I think so. Another gin and tonic.”

Charles signalled the bartender. “So. You have a hardware store, and you moved here only recently. Are there particular things you like to do for fun?” His smile widened. “Other than what I already know about,” he added.

“I go target shooting sometimes, and I build things,” Erik answered, ignoring the innuendo for now. Charles was definitely quite the flirt. “I’ve liked building things, making things, all that since I was little. I loved Tinkertoys, all that sort. I have an engineering degree, so I suppose with a hardware store I’m putting it to some use.” His drink was passed over, and he took a long sip. “And what is it you do?” he asked. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“What, for a living?” Charles asked. “I’m a librarian, actually.”

Erik laughed out loud—he couldn’t help it. Charles laughed as well. 

“Oh yes, very funny, isn’t it? The kinky librarian,” he teased in a low voice, leaning in. “Mild-mannered by day, getting up to God knows what at night.” He winked.

“And, Mister Kinky Librarian,” Erik teased back, “what do you do for fun? Other than what I already know about.”

“I’m terribly boring, I’m afraid,” Charles answered. “I like to read—yes, somewhat strange for a librarian—and I like a number of team sports. Rugby, soccer. Or as they call it here, football.” He made a face.

Erik laughed. “Americans.”

“Well, technically I am an American. I was born here. I was a child in England, and I suppose I was influenced by my mother’s accent.”

“I’ve lost mine for the most part,” Erik said. “I moved here as a child, but I learned quickly that a strong accent only led to suspicion from others. I started losing it anyway, but I figured it wasn’t worth the hassle to try and keep it.”

“Oh yes. I was endlessly made fun of for it as a child. Not very often by the girls, I might add, and certainly not by the girls once I was a teenager.” He laughed. “Yes, before you ask, I’m bisexual. Some people are bothered by that,” he added, looking closely at Erik. “I hope you’re not, but if you are….”

“I’m not,” Erik said. “I’m bisexual myself.”

“Oh! Lovely.” Charles patted his leg, and Erik realized his hand had been on it this entire time. A proprietary gesture that should have been offensive, and probably would from just about anyone else. Erik found he didn’t mind at all. He wanted Charles’ hands on him. Charles must have seen him looking down at his hand, because he drew it away slightly, making Erik conscious of how warm it had been. “Do you mind?” he asked, and Erik looked up to meet his gaze.

“No,” Erik said. “Not at all. As you may recall, I don’t mind you touching me.” He swallowed. Charles smiled, his hand settling once more on Erik’s leg. What a silly thing to make his skin feel so warm all over.

Charles leaned in, conspiratorial once more. “We don’t have to stay here, you know,” he murmured. “In fact, I hope we don’t. I wanted a meeting place—if you did turn up, and you seemed amenable, I was hoping we’d go back to mine.” His hand slid slightly further up Erik’s leg.

“Yes,” Erik said. “Let’s.”

Charles’ smile was luminous.

As Charles settled the tab, Erik suddenly remembered what he’d said earlier. _You meet someone, you get down to business, you go your separate ways. Everyone’s happy_. He couldn’t help hoping that wasn’t what Charles was intending.


	6. Chapter 6

Charles couldn’t be happier to have Erik following him out of the bar into the cold February night. He’d not let himself dare hope to get his best-case scenario: Erik meets him at the designated spot, having seen his ad; Erik still likes him; Erik goes home with him and spends the night; he and Erik start dating and are together for ages. Well, he’d better not get ahead of himself, but at least they were at the “going home together” stage. Much further along than he’d been when fretting a few days ago, not sure if his ad had even been seen.

They were quiet on the way back to Charles’, taking his car; they didn’t really know each other well, after all, and Erik did seem like a rather reserved, guarded type, so Charles took a cue from him. He could be patient. This quality of Erik’s made Charles all the more interested in unlocking him and taking him apart, after, of course, proving himself worthy of such trust. He was absolutely fascinating, and Charles was rather fidgety and jumpy with barely concealed excitement on the drive to his place.

However, once there, rather than bother with a lot of pointless showing Erik around, asking him if he wanted another drink, et cetera, Charles abandoned his plans to be patient (at least now that they were out of the car, where it was much harder to get up to anything without putting themselves in serious danger) and pressed Erik against a wall in the foyer to kiss him.

Erik was immediately responsive, and Charles couldn’t help a soft groan into his mouth at the way Erik pulled him closer, kissing him back with a sincere sort of eagerness, never clumsy or flustered in quite the way Charles knew he himself could be. It seemed as if his entire focus was on Charles. 

Charles felt the charming veneer he’d put on for the bar meeting just in case he needed it melting away rapidly to leave only pure desire. It had been a while since he’d been so keenly interested in anyone as he was in Erik—it was possible he’d never been quite this interested—and the urgency in him was almost desperation. He’d been thinking about the possibility of this night for so long—of the things he could do with Erik, to Erik. He hardly knew where to start. Maybe Erik had a preference.

He drew back to whisper, “When you thought about us… what did you think about?” Earlier, Erik had said “Anything. Everything,” but Charles wanted specifics, and the idea of coaxing Erik into describing his thoughts was incredibly appealing. 

A series of subtle emotions flickered over Erik’s face; Charles wished he could read his mind, but on the other hand, such an ability might make it too easy for him to be an interesting challenge. “I,” Erik began, sounding breathless, and then swallowing, “I usually think about getting on my knees for you. Right away.”

“Do you?” Charles was still pressed up against Erik, a hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding. “That sounds lovely. Do you want to know what I think about?”

“Yes,” Erik whispered, almost inaudible.

“I think about how you’d look tied up for me,” Charles whispered against his lips. He heard and felt Erik’s inhalation. “On your knees with your wrists bound behind your back. Blindfolded, perhaps. Trussed up on a bed. Even in Japanese rope bondage, you know what that is, don’t you? Shibari?”

Erik nodded.

“I thought you might. You’d be gorgeous in it.” Charles slid his hand down from Erik’s chest to cup his hard cock, which was truly testing the confines of his trousers. “You look so good tonight, so impeccable—it all goes very well with how much I’d love to strip you down and take you apart.”

Shuddering, Erik nodded again. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“I can see you want that too, Erik. What else? Do you want me to fuck you?” A leading, self-serving direction of the line of questioning, but Charles couldn’t help himself.

Erik closed his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered shakily. He wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed to admit that, Charles realized—he was just so turned on he could barely speak. That realization made Charles almost dizzy with want.

“Mm.” He rubbed his palm firmly over Erik’s erection. “That sounds wonderful to me. Let’s get out of this foyer and to a proper bed, shall we?”

“Yes, Charles.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” Charles pulled away, taking a moment to observe how flushed and dazed Erik looked, and took his hand to lead him. “Don’t take anything off yet, please. Leave that for me.”

In the bedroom, he had Erik sit down on the bed, and took off Erik’s jacket, and his shoes and socks. Standing between Erik’s legs, he pulled off his turtleneck, gaze devouring every bit of his bare, lean, perfectly muscled torso. His mouth felt dry. Pushing Erik back onto the bed, feeling him go with the movement, Charles unbuckled his belt and undid his flies, pulling off his trousers and revealing an enormous bulge trapped in gray briefs, a wet and sticky area darkening the front. Charles rubbed his palm over it, firm, listening to the way Erik’s breath hitched at the pressure. 

Charles rose up, pulling off his jumper and the undershirt beneath, watching Erik watching him; Erik was breathing faster, swallowing compulsively as he stared at Charles stripping off. Well, that was gratifying. Off came Charles’ shoes, socks, and jeans, and then he too was just in his underwear. After exchanging a long, wordless look with Erik, he climbed onto the bed and layered himself over him, to find Erik immediately opening to his kiss, his arms going around him. He rolled his hips as they kissed, a subtle rhythm that Erik answered with his own restless shifting, grinding up against him and finally trailing his hands down Charles’ back to dig his fingers into his buttocks and pull Charles against him. Gasping, Charles broke to blink down at him, raising a brow.

He was already carried away, he realized, and he barely cared. His plans to take things more slowly with Erik, to build on a solid foundation, were already out the window. It was true he’d wanted Erik to come back to his, but surely what they were doing wouldn’t stoke a steady flame, but burn out hot and bright. Charles didn’t want to use up everything between them in one night, but more importantly he didn’t want to stop what was happening right now. Although what he truly wanted was to see Erik submitting to him, bound and graceful and willing, fucking him was more than all right, too. And surely they’d have a chance for both, no?

“One moment please, darling, while I get my things in my nightstand...?”

Erik nodded, a little frantic. Charles retrieved the lube in the nightstand drawer, and quickly resumed his place over Erik, peeling back his briefs and pulling them down to finally look at him. Bloody hell, he’d like to spend some quality time with _that_ at some point. Dispensing with his underwear, he pressed a palm to Erik’s very hard cock, so hard it was up flat against his belly, leaking on his lean abdomen. He gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing a gasp from Erik. 

“Legs up, darling.”

He prepped Erik with two slick fingers, until Erik nodded and gasped out, “Please.” In all haste, Charles stripped off his underwear and put on a condom, and overcome with need, with no concern for finesse or being debonair, he raised up Erik’s lean, long legs and pressed into him. Erik was so pliant and graceful under him, arching up and wrapping his limbs around him. Charles had to kiss him again. 

Erik’s hands slid restlessly up and down the small of his back as Charles rocked into him. Their kiss got messier as Erik started to pant, and Charles got a hand between them to take hold of his cock—God, he really wanted some time to pay proper attention to it—and start to stroke him off. It didn’t take long for Erik to shudder and come between them, his legs tightening around Charles’ hips, and Charles came as well, panting into the curve of Erik’s neck as he had to break to breathe.

“Jesus,” he sighed, little aftershocks running through him. That had been _good_. Regrettably fast, but it hardly seemed he’d have been able to slow down, and besides, Erik had come quickly too. They’d just taken the edge off.

Erik’s fingers stroked the small of his back, and thinking it was a polite signal to get his weight off of him, Charles withdrew, as Erik pulled his legs out of the way and blinked up at him. Charles stretched out alongside him, and yawned, dismayed at how much that had taken out of him. He’d been bearing so much tension that it all coming to a head had apparently exhausted him.

“You’ve worn me out,” Charles told Erik.

The corner of Erik’s mouth twitched, but there was a look on his face and especially in his eyes that Charles couldn’t read, and he really wanted to. He felt a twinge of apprehension; had he displeased Erik somehow? That had certainly seemed like exceptionally good sex, although it was fast and wasn’t elaborate, but then, Erik hadn’t said anything to the contrary…. His heart sank, but unsure what to ask or say about that look, he said, “You can stay here if you like. Bathroom’s just down the hall and to your right.”

Something closed off in Erik’s expression then, and Charles felt a pang of regret. What had he done? He’d messed something up. 

“All right.” Erik sat up, and stretched a little before standing; God, he was gorgeous, lean and sleek like a panther. Charles watched him walk to the bathroom, and shaking himself out of a little daze caused by the view of him naked from the back, he binned the condom and went to put on some pajama trousers. When Erik came back in, and picked up his briefs from the floor, putting them back on—a shame!—Charles was in bed. 

With a nod to him, Erik got in on the other side, and Charles put out the light. He turned toward Erik, a hand reaching out toward him, and fell asleep almost right away.

When he woke up the next morning, Erik was gone.

Happy Valentine’s Day, indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

Although Charles apparently fell asleep right away (perhaps Erik really had worn him out), Erik took a while longer. 

He wondered what exactly Charles was playing at. As the man himself snored softly next to him, he went over the evening’s events and tried to determine where things had started going wrong.

Because they had gone wrong somewhere.

Charles’ talk when they’d first gotten to his place, about what he wanted to do to Erik, how he wanted to dominate him, had gotten Erik so hot that regardless of tonight’s events he’d committed it to memory for future masturbation sessions. It fit so well with his thoughts before about Charles, back when he hadn’t known his name. 

He had even been starting to imagine that those were the sort of things Charles would say to him every night, that they were together and this was just what they did with each other. But it seemed Charles was comfortable saying those things to work him up, and at some point he’d switched gears to just wanting to fuck him—a good fuck, yes, but just a one-night-stand type of fuck. Erik had somehow fallen in status in his mind. 

Erik wasn’t sure why this was even bothering him. As one-night stands went, that was very good. With anyone else he’d be happy.

So why was he considering leaving?

Because this night apparently hadn’t meant as much to Charles as it had to Erik. Although Charles had placed the ad, it seemed at some point things stopped being special for him when it came to Erik. Maybe he’d really been hinting at something with his talk about hookups being enough for some relationships. 

Even though he’d called him “darling.” Perhaps that was just what Charles called his one-night stands. Maybe he’d forgotten Erik’s name.

And he’d gotten his hopes up so much. He really had assigned a lot of meaning to this evening. This Valentine’s Day. 

He’d been foolish.

He eventually fell asleep, but not for very long, and when the sky started to lighten outside he got up, very carefully, and gathered his clothes. He managed to get out of Charles’ bed and get dressed without waking him, and as Charles slumbered on, oblivious but looking content, Erik gave him one last look—he really was handsome—and left. It was possible he wouldn’t see Charles again.

The morning was cold and quiet. He knew where he was—in a somewhat tony part of town, Charles must have money—and hopped a bus to take him to where he’d parked his car. Then it was a short drive home, a shower, and some coffee and toast before work. No run this morning; he was too tired.

Alex showed up with coffee and a barely concealed look of curiosity. But as soon as he got a good look at Erik, his mouth drew into a thin line and he nodded. “Stood up, man?”

“No,” Erik informed him, somewhat haughty. “It was him. We met up. I went back to his place.”

Alex looked surprised. “And?”

Erik shrugged. “We had sex.” He took the coffee Alex had brought him; he certainly needed it. “Long story short, I suppose it didn’t mean that much to him, after all.” _I suppose_ I _didn’t mean that much to him_.

“Ah.” Alex sipped his coffee. “I’m sorry to hear that, man. I know you were looking forward to seeing this guy again.” His grimace of sympathy sent a little pang through Erik. 

“I put too much stock in it,” Erik said, with another shrug. He took a long drink, letting the coffee warm him. 

He wondered what time Charles woke up, what he thought when he realized Erik wasn’t there. Maybe Charles wasn’t awake yet, and when he saw Erik wasn’t there he’d shrug. He realized he didn’t have Charles’ phone number, and hadn’t given Charles his, so there was no chance of Charles texting him to apologize or anything else. Charles hadn’t offered or asked, so perhaps he was even less interesting to him than he’d originally thought.

Erik made a point (even if just to himself) of talking to Alex about other things until the store opened.

That night, alone in his bed, he found himself thinking back on everything Charles had said and done to him. He couldn’t help it: it encapsulated so many of his fantasies. Even if Charles regrettably hadn’t been all that interested when everything was said and done, he was charming enough to have convinced Erik otherwise, and he knew just what to say to get Erik into bed.

With a sigh, Erik got a hand into his underwear and around his already hard cock. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. What a shame Charles wasn’t here to touch him, to wrap a hand around him in a light, teasing grip, to whisper in his ear and kiss his neck as he stroked him off. To turn him over and fuck him into the bed, bite at his shoulders. 

With a shudder, Erik came, thinking of Charles, and exasperated with himself.

He bit his lip, wishing he could work Charles out of his system as easily as he could come thinking about him. 

He had a feeling, however, that such would not be the case.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles blinked and looked around his bedroom. There was no sign Erik had even been there. Nothing except his scent on the sheets. But for that, it was as if he’d been a dream.

He’d been expecting, he realized, to make Erik breakfast, to kiss and mess about with him beforehand, maybe take a shower with him later. All assumptions. Maybe Erik just saw this as a quick hookup. But no, that didn’t seem right. When Charles had gone off on his tangent about the value of hookups, Erik had pushed back, seemingly skeptical of the idea that there was only fodder enough for that between them. And Charles had secretly agreed.

Apparently he hadn’t made that clear enough.

It was very possible Charles had really messed up here. Possibly beyond the hope of fixing, but perhaps not.

He remembered that closed-off look on Erik’s face after they’d fucked. Erik was displeased, but didn’t want to say so, and it probably didn’t have anything to do with the quality of the sex itself. 

He’d been wanting the treatment Charles had seemingly promised. Not some quick fuck. 

Charles’ heart sank. The first person he’d been this interested in in a long time, possibly ever, and he’d screwed things up.

Maybe he could text him and apologize—With horror, Charles realized that he didn’t get Erik’s number and didn’t give him his own. Erik hadn’t asked, either. Maybe he decided he didn’t want it after all. Not after the clumsy way Charles had handled him.

What a mess.

Charles had to get to work, and there was no time to linger. Glum, he showered and had a quick breakfast. Moira was surely going to ask him how it had all gone.

“You don’t look happy,” Moira observed quietly as Charles took his place behind the desk and signed in. “What happened? Did he not show?”

Charles sighed. “Yes, he showed. We went back to mine, we slept together. He… left before I woke up.”

“A lot of people would consider that a successful night.”

“Well, the sex was good, so it wasn’t that… but something dissatisfied him, Moira. I really wanted him to stay. I… messed up at some point. I didn’t give him what he was looking for.”

Moira’s eyes glinted in amusement, although she was sympathetic. “I know it must be a huge concession for you to admit to having done something wrong,” she teased gently. “So are you going to reach out to him?”

“We didn’t exchange numbers.”

“Do you know where he lives? Where he works?”

“I do, actually,” Charles said, sitting up straight, remembering what Erik had told him. “I do. Know where he works. At least, it’ll be easy to find out.”

“What are you going to say to him once you track him down?”

Charles drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’m going to apologize and ask to start over,” he told her. That did sum it up, after all, and Moira didn’t need to know the details.

She raised her brows. “Admitting you’re wrong and apologizing. I’m impressed. I hope I can meet this guy.”

“Hopefully you can.”

Well, there was nothing else for it—obviously he’d have to find Erik and talk to him. Perhaps win him back, perhaps not. 

And he’d have to do this tonight at the latest.

Charles looked up “hardware store” on his phone. There was one downtown, and it had to be the one Erik had talked about. It was a bit of a drive from here, but not too bad. God, he wished he could leave now—the longer he waited, the less interested he must seem. 

While the odds were good that Erik truly didn’t want to see Charles ever again, Charles had a feeling Erik was waiting to see if Charles would find him. Because Charles had misstepped, the ball was now in his court. He had a hunch he wouldn’t hear from Erik ever again if he didn’t try to find him now.

He stared at the spot on the map on his phone. Erik was right there, even now, possibly waiting to see if he’d come.

“Moira,” he said suddenly, “I’m going out for lunch.”


	9. Chapter 9

Alex had long since left, the store wasn’t busy, and Erik was getting ready for lunch when he heard the bell over the door jingle. He looked up.

Charles was in the doorway, blinking at him. He stepped inside, silent. The door closed behind him, the clang the only sound, blocking the rush of cool air that had entered with him.

“Erik,” he breathed, and walked toward him.

“Charles,” Erik replied, heart beating faster, although he tried not to betray his excitement. “I’m… surprised to see you.” That was true—he’d more or less assumed Charles wasn’t interested, and that he needed to put this entire episode behind him, as much as he’d hoped Charles would track him down.

Charles stopped in front of him, looking at Erik as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered. “I wanted to talk to you, and we hadn’t exchanged numbers, so I came by.”

“What makes you think I wanted you to?” Erik asked, mouth dry.

Charles looked at him a long time. “Call it a hunch. But regardless, I was at fault, so it was on me to find you.”

Erik nodded. “Here you are.”

“Yes.” Charles had on a pale blue dress shirt under a dark blazer, Erik noticed, and he was still mouthwateringly good looking. “I’m sorry for what happened last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a disconnect between us,” Charles answered. “I think you had expectations I didn’t meet. You wanted something special.” Erik winced at the phrasing, but Charles wasn’t wrong. “I thought you knew I wanted that too, but at some point I dropped the ball and unintentionally abdicated my responsibility.”

“Your responsibility?”

“Yes. As your hopeful dom.”

“My dom,” Erik said, blinking.

“If you’ll have me, yes.” Charles swallowed, adjusting his stance to hold his head up higher. “You’re not a quick fuck to me. Not a one-night stand. There’s nothing wrong with that, but that’s not what I want from you, and I apologize for giving you that impression.”

“What if a one-night stand is what I wanted from you?”

“Then I’m certainly taking a risk of looking foolish and presumptuous. But I’m willing to bet you wanted more.”

“How do I know you know what I want?”

“I think from the discussions you and I have had you can conclude I have a fairly good idea.”

“Then why is a one-night stand what you gave me?”

Charles sighed. “I… I lost my head. You were... _are_ rather intoxicating.” He laughed, sounding a bit breathless. He wiped a hand down his face. “God, I acted like a fucking teenager. I’m so sorry, Erik.”

“Charles, it wasn’t…. It wasn’t bad sex. Not at all. It was just… I did think you wanted more than that.”

“So you’re admitting I’m right,” Charles teased.

Erik shrugged. “I suppose I am.”

“Look, Erik. I’ve made a mistake, and it’s possible that’s all you need to know, and you’re ready to move on. But I’ll tell you what. Pick something out here, in your store, that you’ve always wanted to have used on you. Bring it to mine, and we’ll use it. If you don’t want to have anything more to do with me, then don’t, and I’ll accept your answer. But before I go, let me get your number, and I’ll give you mine. Again, if you don’t come over and I never hear from you, I won’t contact you again. I promise.”

“When?”

“When what?”

Erik arched a brow. “When do you want me to do this? Tonight?”

“Whenever you like,” Charles answered. “Tonight would be wonderful. But of course, it doesn’t have to be tonight. When you’re ready. Just text me ahead of time.”

Erik stood looking at Charles for a while. He felt as though everything he’d ever wanted in a relationship had been brought to him on a silver platter. It was too good to be true.

Evidently unsure what to think of Erik’s silence, Charles shifted, and bit his lip. But he didn’t slump at all, and his eyes were clear and bright—no pleading in them. He was letting Erik choose.

Erik took out his phone, and seeing that, Charles fumbled to get his out. He gave his number to Charles, who immediately texted him to give him his in return. Right away, Erik had a thought of the sexts they might send, the pictures. 

“So,” Erik said, “you want me to come to yours, bringing something I’d from here I’d like you to use on me.”

“If you want to,” Charles said. Which went without saying, but he was a bit glad Charles said it anyway. “When you want to.”

Erik smiled, unable to stop himself. “You really think I’m going to make it that easy for you?”

Charles smiled back, and winked. “I rather hope you don’t.”

Shortly after that, he left. Alone in the shop, Erik was free to think about what he was going to bring to Charles’ tonight.

Because he would be going. Yes.

Erik walked down the aisles, slowly, and scanned the shelves. He found his gaze drawn to the section with many different types of lengths of chains. He envisioned himself on his knees, or sitting on his heels, wrists behind his back wrapped in chains, with a padlock. Or on his back on a bed, chains snaking around his torso, wrists chained to the headboard. He’d always been drawn toward chains, but somehow had never had them used on him. It was usually handcuffs instead, and the appeal wasn’t the same.

But then, it wasn’t surprising he hadn’t had them used on him before. 

Chains were serious. 

He thought perhaps on some level he’d been waiting for the right person to use chains on him, without fully realizing it. Someone he could really trust. Someone with whom it would feel right.

Whenever he held chains in the store, something about the weight appealed to him. Now, he imagined the cool heaviness being wrapped around his limbs and weighing him down, grounding him. He pictured Charles putting them on him, watching him. He felt a little lightheaded thinking about it, somewhat unsteady on his feet. 

Yes, he’d pick chains.

Once Charles had him in the chains, though, what would he do with him? Or would the act of getting him in the chains be the main appeal? No, there would have to be more than that. Erik remembered when they’d first met, how they’d both envisioned Erik on his knees and sucking Charles off. He pictured himself naked but for the chains wrapped around his wrists and behind his back, with Charles clothed, his cock out, his hand in Erik’s hair. 

Yes, that would do.

Now he needed to pick out the type of chain he wanted, and the length. 

There were few customers that afternoon, so Erik was more or less free to peruse the chain selection at leisure. He chose a length of simple metal links, just the right weight, and a padlock. 

As he cut the length and laid it out to look it over, however, he thought back on what Charles had said. Something about it bothered him. 

Charles had said he wanted to be Erik’s dom, and wanted to put the ball back in his court after giving him the mistaken impression that he was just a one-night stand after all. That was all well and good, but Erik realized now he had a nagging feeling he wanted more than just that sort of relationship with Charles. Not a casual one. Not a formal dom-sub arrangement. More than either of those things. 

The question was whether that was what Charles wanted too.

When closing time rolled around, he locked the store up and headed home with his bag of goods. Once there, he had a quick dinner. He then took a shower, got dressed in a white shirt and jeans, and texted Charles. _I’m coming over_.

The reply was almost immediate. _Really? Tonight?_

 _Yes. Tonight_.

 _I almost didn’t let myself hope it would be so soon_.

 _Hope away_.

 _Don’t make it too easy for me_.

 _I won’t_.

 _I look forward to seeing you_.

Erik left that on “read,” and made his way over to Charles’ tony neighborhood.

It seemed to take a long time to get there, but once he was at Charles’ door it was as though no time had passed at all. Charles answered his knock immediately, looking flushed and breathless. “Erik,” was all he said, and Erik stepped inside, hold tightening on his bag.

“Charles.”

“Are you sure this isn’t too soon?” He sounded hopeful, yet disbelieving.

Erik shook his head. “I make my decisions quickly. And if this won’t work out, it’s best to know now.”

“Fair enough.” Charles laughed softly. “Can I ask what you’ve brought me to use? I have my guesses, but….”

“Chains,” Erik said, holding up the bag. “And a padlock.”

Charles’ eyes lit up. “May I?” he asked, reaching for the bag.

“Hardly very dominant of you, Charles,” Erik teased, letting him take it.

“I’m being polite!” Charles protested, smiling. “We haven’t started a scene yet. But if you want me to get into character, as it were, right now, I can do that.”

Erik shook his head. “It’s fine.” It unsettled him somewhat, Charles being polite and normal like this; it would have been easier if he’d been putting on some dom act, letting Erik slip into his role, letting those walls remain between them. But instead Charles was just himself, and Erik once again realized how susceptible he was to his charm… and he realized he was all right with that. More than all right. He swallowed, mouth dry, and said, “I don’t know if I do want you to be some sort of character. I want you to be yourself.”

Charles looked at him a long time; something loosened in his face, a barely perceptible relaxation, a relief. “All right. All right,” he said, low, nodding. “I suppose you were wanting to get started now?” Charles said, sounding hopeful. “We can of course have a drink first, if you like.”

“I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon,” Erik told him. “I’d rather not put it off any longer. But there’s something I want to talk about first.” He went to sit on the couch.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I….” Erik cleared his throat, and looked down at his hands, then at Charles as he sat down as well. “I don’t want you to be my dom.” Charles looked startled. “I mean,” Erik added hastily, “I don’t want just that. I want more from you.”

Charles looked at him consideringly, again with that look that gave Erik the uncanny feeling that Charles understood him on some deep level. He took a deep breath.

“You can say no,” Erik added. “We can do the scene as just dom and sub. Nothing more.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“No,” Erik admitted, shaking his head.

“Darling, of course I want more. I want everything you could give me.”

Erik let out his breath in a rush. “In the shop, you said—”

“I wasn’t sure if _you_ would want more than that. Erik, I’ve never felt a connection with anyone like I do with you. You were unhappy with me, and with good reason, so I thought I’d at least start where I could.”

They sat looking at each other for a few moments. 

“Charles,” Erik started, “can we…. It’s just that I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“Ah.” There was a glint in Charles’ eye at that. “I’m glad to know you’re eager. Let me lead the way.”

Erik followed Charles back to his bedroom. Setting the bag on the bed, Charles gestured at the room in general. “Everything’s about where you remember it from last time,” he said, then turned to step close to Erik, and kiss him. “I’m very happy you’re here,” he murmured. “God, I can’t stop thinking about what you must look like in those chains. Can we get started? Formally?”

“Formally?” Erik asked.

“Like a proper scene, just not one where I’m some sort of character.”

“I don’t know if I want a scene, either.”

“You just want to be chained, then?”

“Yes. I want the chains and I want what we first wanted, when we were in that back room.”

Charles smiled. “Keeping it simple, eh?”

“If that’s all right.” Erik looked steadily at Charles, waiting for some sort of sign that this wasn’t really what Charles wanted after all.

“More than all right,” Charles said. “I don’t think I want a scene either. I don’t want to be a character. I just want it to be… us.”

Erik nodded, swallowing, suddenly nervous—this was the closest he’d gotten yet to what he wanted. Catching some change in his demeanour, Charles cupped his jaw, gentle and reassuring. “It’s all right, Erik, you can trust me.” He laughed softly, and bit his lip before adding, “I hope.”

“I do trust you, Charles,” Erik said, and leaned in to kiss him. 

Restless, Erik began to pull his shirt off; Charles broke the kiss to take over, pulling it off the rest of the way for him. He paused to kiss Erik again before dropping the garment to the floor. “I want you naked,” he said, “although part of me does want to see you kneeling in your jeans.”

“Naked,” Erik repeated, mouth dry again. He took off his shoes and socks. 

“Take your jeans off for me, I want to watch that,” Charles said, and Erik did; he paused, waiting for Charles to nod his okay, before he took off his underwear. Then he stood before Charles, naked, already hard.

Charles looked him up and down, gaze raking him, he could almost feel it, like a touch. 

“You’re gorgeous….” Charles swallowed, and seemed to shake his head as if to clear it. “Hands behind your back, and get on your knees,” he continued. Without a word, Erik crossed his wrists at the small of his back and sank to the floor with all the grace he could muster. He savored the urge he felt to wrap a hand around his cock, and the impossibility of doing so. 

Charles ran a hand over the breadth of his shoulders, gentle, and then took the chain from the bag. He knelt behind him, and began to wrap the length of chain around Erik’s wrist. After applying the padlock and setting the key on the nightstand, he pressed a kiss to Erik’s neck, just under his ear. “Lovely,” he whispered, bringing up goosebumps on Erik’s skin. Standing, Charles looked him over again. “Gorgeous,” he repeated. “Now then….” He unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, and pulled his cock out from his underwear.

As much as Erik wanted to lean forward and take him in, without being asked, he remained still, looking up at Charles, who appeared to be a little dazed, flushed. Erik wanted to be told.

“Suck,” Charles said, a hand wrapping around his cock and guiding it to Erik’s mouth as his other hand went to Erik’s hair.

Erik took him in readily, the chain weighing down his wrists as he set to his task. He closed his eyes, getting lost almost right away in the feel and weight of Charles’ cock in his mouth, his taste. 

Charles held both hands to his head, gentle but definitely holding him in place, and Erik hummed his approval. As he went faster, he could hear Charles’ breath getting rougher. “Fuck,” Charles whispered. “Oh, Erik. I thought about this so many times—God, I’m so glad I found you again.” He huffed out a laugh, sounding shaky. Erik suddenly felt a rush of power, knowing that Charles had wanted this, and Erik was finally giving it to him. He tightened his lips, went faster, took Charles in deeper. 

Charles’ restless hands touched his ears, his neck, and he came with a shudder down Erik’s throat, fingers clutching at him and holding him close. 

It was a bit of a blur then as Charles sank to his knees and kissed Erik as he wrapped a hand around his cock. Erik strained against his bonds, wanting to wrap his arms around Charles, but having to be constrained, moaning into Charles’ mouth as his hand on his cock worked him faster and faster. Breaking the kiss as he came, drawing in air, he slumped forward onto Charles, who wrapped an arm around him, holding him up. 

“God,” Charles breathed against his neck, sounding awed. “Erik.” He shifted back and looked at him, gaze searching. “God, you’re incredible. Let me… let me get these off,” he said, wiping his hand on his jeans and moving to get behind Erik. 

“It was only a blowjob, Charles,” Erik said, a little smug, as Charles took the key and unlocked the padlock. He started to slip the chains from Erik’s wrists.

“Oh, it was more than that and you know it.” Charles set the chains down and grabbed a tissue to dab off Erik’s abdomen. “I told you, I’d been thinking about that for ages. The chains, though.... God.”

“I’d have thought a librarian would have a broader vocabulary.”

“Hush.” Smiling, fond, Charles kissed him. Free to do so now, Erik wrapped his arms around him, and held him tight.


	10. Chapter 10

_One year later—Valentine’s Day_

Erik awoke to Charles pressing kisses in a slow line down his bare back. “Mmmph,” he said after a moment, into the pillow, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin, his cock starting to harden where it was pressed between his body and the bed.

“Good morning, darling,” Charles whispered. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Would you roll over for me, please?”

No sooner had he done so than his cock was enveloped by Charles’ hot, wet mouth. Erik groaned, his hands going to Charles’ thick, soft hair. At the touch, Charles hummed in approval. 

It didn’t take long at all for Charles to turn Erik into a helpless puddle of need. Charles knew everything he liked and could play him like a fiddle. Erik blinked up at him as Charles, having swallowed him down, settled onto him, nuzzling his neck and pressing his face against his skin, inhaling and then sighing out contentedly.

“What would you like to do for Valentine’s Day, sweetheart?” he asked, voice muffled. 

“You mean there’s more than that?” Erik joked, groggy. “I would have thought I’d be set for the rest of the day.” It was ridiculous how pliant and agreeable Charles had made him; Alex in particular found it hilarious. Erik did, however, consider it important to not make it too easy for Charles.

“Well, it’s our first proper Valentine’s Day. I thought we might like to do something special.”

Erik thought back on their first Valentine’s Day, when they’d met again after Charles had placed missed connections ad, and which had ended with a very hot but brief fuck in Charles’ bed. Dissatisfied with what he’d felt was a one-night-stand downgrade, Erik had left. “I suppose the technical first one was rather lacking.”

“Not to me,” Charles said swiftly. “I enjoyed it because it was with you.”

“But you do wish I hadn’t left.” 

“Yes, but I consider it my fault that you did. And I try not to dwell on those negative aspects, since we essentially resolved them.”

Erik shifted to kiss Charles’ temple. “I don’t deserve you,” he teased.

“No, but keep trying to,” Charles teased back, shifting to kiss him. That led quickly to an exchange of lazy, lingering kisses, until Charles started to breathe harder and shift restlessly, and Erik remembered he hadn’t gotten off, suddenly more aware of his erection pressed against Erik’s hip.

He broke the kiss to ask, “What do you want?”

Charles closed his teeth gently on Erik’s earlobe before whispering, “Hmm, I think I’d rather like to fuck you.”

“Oh, you don’t say.”

“Seems like it.” Charles reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the lube.

Erik couldn’t imagine any better way to spend Valentine’s Day morning than with his legs wrapped around Charles’ hips, being fucked into the mattress until he was hard again, and then to come again with Charles’ hand tight around his cock and Charles filling him, closer than close, whispering loving nonsense in his ear.

Charles had surpassed his wildest dreams in the past year. Erik was a very private person, and few people had gotten past his outer shell, as it were. Charles knew every inch of him, had searched out his wants and needs, teased out his childhood and adolescent memories, and brought him to tears on more than one occasion with the intensity of his love. It had been difficult, at first, to make himself so vulnerable, but Charles was so patient, so determined and yet so gentle, that after only a short while it was a pleasure to surrender to him, even more so than just being around him. 

Now, Charles collapsed on Erik in a sweaty heap, sated and smiling. Erik drew his fingertips down the center of his back, over his warm, smooth skin. “Now, Erik. What do you want to do for Valentine’s Day?” Charles shifted back a bit to look at him, and suddenly it all clicked for Erik.

“I want us to book a trip to Germany for you to meet my mother,” he said.

Charles’ jaw dropped, and he blinked. “Erik.”

“Charles.”

“I…. I don’t know what to say. Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure. I love you, and I want her to meet you.”

Charles raised himself up, touched Erik’s jaw, and bent down to kiss him. “Darling, I would be honored,” he whispered, and kissed him again. Erik cupped the back of his head, keeping him there. 

Eventually, sweaty and sticky, they got themselves into the shower. Charles liked to wash him, especially his hair; it had taken Erik a while to be comfortable with allowing such proprietary intimacy, but now he enjoyed it, welcomed it. For one, it pleased Charles immensely.

“I can’t believe you want me to meet your mother,” Charles remarked, as they dried off. “Are we really that serious?” he added, teasing, stepping in close for another kiss. Once again, everything clicked for Erik, and he knew what he wanted. 

“Marry me, Charles,” Erik said.

For the second time that morning, Charles stared at him, jaw slack. “Erik, I—”

“It’s too much, isn’t it? I’ve overwhelmed you.” Erik stepped back, chagrined. He’d miscalculated, and terribly—

“No! No, darling, I— Erik— It’s more than I’d ever dreamed. You want me to meet your mother, you want… want me to marry you, I…. My God, it’s….” His eyes were filling with tears, Erik realized. Charles stepped closer to him, the both of them still naked. “Erik, I…. Yes. Everything, yes. Germany, marrying you. All of it.” 

Charles sagged forward a bit, and Erik caught him; they wrapped their arms tightly around each other. He realized they were both trembling a bit, breathing hard, barely aware of the fact that they were naked. He figured that if they hadn’t been holding on to each other, they’d have fallen. 

“I’m glad,” Erik whispered, voice shaking.

“Do you know,” Charles whispered back, “every day I’m thankful I placed that silly ad.”

“So am I, Charles.” Erik closed his eyes. “So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 Happy Valentine's Day!


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